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... 



J. WILKES BOOTH; 




OR, 



The National Tragedy. 

AN ORIGINAL TRAGEDY, 

IN FIVE ACTS. 

BY WILLIAM A.LUBY 



BEING A TRUE REPRESENTATION OF ONE OF 

THE MOST TRAGICAL AND SORROWFUL 

EVENTS THAT EVER OCCURRED. 



TO WHICH ARE ADDED, 

A SYNOPSIS OF THE PIECE, CAST OF CHARACTERS, 
ENTRANCES, EXITS, ETC. 



ALL ACTING RIGHTS RESERVED. 




WILLIAM A. LUBY, Publisher 

Kalamazoo, Mich. 







J. WILKES BOOTH; 



OR, 



The National Tragedy. 



AN ORIGINAL TRAGEDY, 

IN FIVE ACTS. 

BY WILLIAM A. LUBY. 



BEING A TEUE REPRESENTATION OE ONE OF 

THE MOST TRAGICAL AND SORROWFUL 

EVENTS THAT EVER OCCURRED. 

TO WHICH ARE ADDED, 

A SYNOPSIS OF THE PTECE, CAST OF CHARACTERS, EN- 
TRANCES, EXITS, ETC. 



ALL ACTING RIGHTS RESERVED. 



PUBISHED BY WILLIAM A. L UBY. 



KALAMAZOO, MICH.: 

KALAMAZOO PUBLISHING CO., PRINT: 

1880. 




DEDICATION. 

To B. A. Bush, my esteemed and honored friend, I most 

respectfully inscribe this play; and trust, that the fruit of 

my first efforts will be received as a token of the sincerest 

friendship, and a memoir of the many happy days we passed 

together. 

W. A. LUBY. 



PERSONS. 

SlTRRATT, *T k 

Mrs. Surratt, 

ThomS, Conspirator,. 

O'Laughlin, 

Payne, 

Dr. Mudd, 

Atzerodt, J 

Seward, Secretary of State. 

Lincoln, President of the United States. 

Mrs. Lincoln, wife of President Lincoln. 

Weichman, acquaintance of Surratt's. 

Lloyd, an innocent accomplice. 

EEi [Friends of Lincoln. 

Ma j. Seayard, ) s f Spwnrrj 

Frederick Seward, ^ onb ot feewa ? a - 

Robinson, an attendant. 

Miss Seward, daughter of Secretary Seward. 

Garrett, a fanner. 

Officers, friends, attendants, etc. 



SYNOPSIS. 



This play is founded on the assassination of President 
Lincoln, the nineteenth President of the United States; the 
assault upon Secretary Seward, his sons and attendants; the 
origin and progress of the plot: the capture of Seward's 
assassin, and the tragical end of him who has deprived the 
Nation of her greatest and most honored chief. Abraham 
Lincoln. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, by William A. 
Luby, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



4^- SPECIAL NOTICE —This play is copy-righted by the Author. 
Those wishing to produce it should address William A. Luby, Publish- 
er, Kalamazoo, Michigan. 



J. WILKES BOOTH; 

OR, 

THE NATIONAL TRAGEDY. 



ACT L— SCENE I. 

A room in Davis' house. Enter Davis. 

Davis. Prom my infancy to my manhood, I have al- 
ways cherished and battled for the thought of freedom; 
first, I bore arms in behalf of my country, and marched to 
defend her against the invasion of a foreign foe. Then, 
when triumphant victories crowned my youthful labors 
in the field — when war had ceased to devastate the land, 
and peace reigned monarch from one end of the Union to 
the other — I resigned the commission which the people 
had intrusted to my care, intending to pass the remainder 
of my days in the quiet and pleasure of a happy home. 
But alas ! I had scarcely reached that sanctuary of repose, 
when I was again called forth into the field of national 
strife. But not this time to the battle field, where thun- 
der is but a discord to the agonizing cries of the wounded 
and distressed; but to the national rostrum, where dig- 
nity, honor, and integrity are supposed to be the crown- 
ing virtues of the representatives of the American 
people. I found there a labyrinth of fraud, hands 
contaminated with the most atrocious of vices, and 
intrigue curtained by the screen of contending parties. 
My first movement was to disarm the unfaithful, to raise 
that curtain which closed between the real and assumed 
character of those whom the people were content to de- 
nominate their representatives. All was in vain, for the 
chains of partisans were too strongly welded together, and 
all the influence I could bring to bear, was insufficient to 
melt them. I served the people faithfully; I supported 



4 J. Wilkes Booth; 

and opposed measures, according as I thought they would 
be beneficial or injurious to the public welfare; I guarded 
inflexibly the interests of my own State, but after all my 
watchfulness and vigilance, after all my care and relentless 
efforts in behalf of universal justice, the war which has 
been ripening through years, and which to-day crimsons 
the green fields of nature, could not be averted. 

Enter Servant with a card. 

Servant. Sir, a gentleman awaits you in the parlor; 
he bade me bring you this card. {Handing card). 

Davis. (Reads from card) 4 * J. Wilkes Booths 
( To servant) Show him into my private room; tell him 
I will join him immediately. [Exit servant]. Our cause 
is a noble one. We will leave the question of its right- 
eousness to the tribunal of the civilized world; but now, 
something must be done, time is precious — Lincoln, John- 
son, and the whole Cabinet must be destroyed. 

{Exit. 

ACT I.— SCENE II. 

Davis 1 private room; Booth seated* hat in hand; 
enter Davis with a newspaper. 

Davis. Mr. J. Wilkes Booth, I believe? 

Booth. (Rises and bows) The same, sir; and you, 
if my memory does not mislead me, are Jefferson Davis, 
President of the Confederate States of America? 

Davis. At your service, Mr. Booth. 

Booth. You see, Mr. Davis, I know you. A few 
years ago, I had the pleasure of seeing you at Washing- 
ton, though with your acquaintance, I was never honored 
till the present moment. 

Davis. Do you come direct from Washington? 

Booth. Not direct, sir; I have been spending some 
time in the Southern States, partly professional, and with 
a view of rendering what services might be in my power 
to the States which justly claim, and are struggling for a 
separation from the Union. 

Davis. Then you espouse the cause of the South? 

Booth. Espouse it? Aye, and ever have; even from 
the very first, when Sumter trembled under fire of your 
cannon. 

Davis. Good! such words, issuing from a mouth of 
one so true, so brave, and loyal as reputation marks you, 



or. The National Tragedy. 5 

will cheer a despairing heart even in the very midst of 
despondency, and exhilarate those who are drooping for 
want of comfort. 

Booth. My intention is not to arouse the sinking 
spirit of a bereft people, by words carelessly strewn, or 
thoughts falsely uttered; not to elevate them to an incon- 
sistent degree of rapturous delight, or place them upon a 
standing, from which a fall, or the least shadow of suspi- 
cion, would precipitate them into a darkened gulf of sorrow, 
deeper and drearier than that, from which hasty words, or 
careless thoughts, might, for a time, rescue them. No ! my 
intention is to take the matter coolly; to work, without 
seeming to contemplate effects; to assist them, without ap- 
pearing interested in their cause. 

Davis. I feel that our cause is just. 1 recognized on 
my first entrance into Congress, that the rights of the 
South were being trampled in the dust, that whenever 
questions would arise, involving the interests of the South- 
ern people, they would be slighted and cast aside, never to 
be considered again. But this course of imposition could 
not last forever; the Southern people were soft, but not so 
credulous as to forfeit their rights and interests without 
remonstrance. I left the Senate, placed myself at their 
head, and am determined to live or die with their cause. 
Conscience tells me I am right, reason urges me on, and 
the God of battles will crown our efforts with success; and 
the Northern States will yet bow, in reluctant humiliation, 
before our grand and triumphant march into their pomp- 
ous cities. 

Booth. How goes the struggle now? 

Davis. Not very favorable for our cause at present. 
The tables seem turned; but some means must be devised 
by which our victory will be ensured, and a speedy ter- 
mination placed beyond the reach of disappointment. 

Booth. Can you conceive of any plan by which those 
results may be successfully accomplished? 

Davis. Aye, sir; plans innumerable, the accomplish- 
ment of which will place the cross-bars of the Confedera- 
tion among the symblematic emblems of independent na- 
tions. 

Booth. By what means then would you effect this 
grand result? 

Davis. Listen! He who is prudent, guards his wis- 
dom with secrecy; the false may come in the guise of the 
most ardent friend; but the penetralia of great plans are 
as diamonds in possession of a pauper, and, like them, will 



< ; eJ. Wtlkes Booth; 

be withheld, until a price consonant with their value be 
offered. 

Booth. (Aside) He distrusts me; he looks upon me as 
an unprincipled traitor, striving to elicit his foul designs! 
(To Davis) Sir, keep your plans; and if in secrecy they 
will work the end desired, if they will place the cross-bars 
of the Confederation among the symblematic emblems of 
independent nations, guard them, with all the wisdom of 
your suspecting nature, and treasure them, in the most sa- 
cred place of your ungrateful heart. I come not here to 
probe into the secrets of your private home, or lurk a 
traitor behind the guise of other faces. 

Davis. Excuse me, Mr. Booth; but if you will calm- 
ly consider the subject upon which we speak, you will 
see the necessity of being guarded in our remarks, and ret- 
icent toward those with whose real character we are yet 
unacquainted. 

Booth. Sir, if I have been too hasty in resenting 
what might appropriately be termed a reflection upon my 
character, and a misconstruction ot my visit here, I hum- 
bly and sincerely ask your pardon. I came to consult with 
you as a friend and advocate of your cause, having seen in 
this morning's paper an article — 

Davis. Yes, I have seen that article myself, and was 
about to read it, when a domestic announced you in the 
parlor. It is singular that it should have slipped my 
memory so; yet, it is not very imperative, and probably as 
well that it did. 

Booth. Is that the paper which contains the article? 

Davis. Yes, I will read it: (reads) ''Any person, or 
persons, who will secure and deliver up to the authorities 
of this government, the person of Abraham Lincoln, will 
receive a reward of $50,000." 

Booth. Have you any idea of the authorship of that 
anonymous and startling announcement? 

Davis. Not the slightest. 

Booth. Would you be reluctant to tell me, if you had ? 

Davis. To be candid with you, Mr. Booth, I think I 
would, at present. 

Booth. Very well; I expected as much; yet, I declare, 
I must admire your vigilance. 

Davis. You see, I might have an idea 

Booth. I'll take your word that you haven't. 

Davis. But I was about to add 

Booth. Do you think that the announcement is se- 
rious ? 



or. The National Tragedy. 7 

Davis. I have no reason to doubt it. 

Booth. Know you if the people of Richmond have 
any ill feeling toward Mr. Lincoln? 

Davis. As a man. I think they haven't; but as a Pres- 
ident, they abhor and detest him. 

Booth. Think you that his removal from office would 
materially alter the present plan of operation? 

Davis. Mest decidedly: it would be a very important 
factor in our cause. 

Booth. Are you in favor of removing him in the 
manner suggested by the advertisement ? 

Davis. I must admit that I am. 

Booth. Could not his removal be accomplished by 
other means less dangerous to the undertaker? 

Davis. Possibly, though I know of none. 

Booth. Would you be in favor of becoming an inter- 
ested party in his abduction? 

Davis. That would depend on who the other par- 
ties were. 

Booth. And of sharing the expenses incurred in the 
operation ? 

Davis. Yes. of defraying the whole, and guaranteeing 
the reward herein mentioned (indicating the paper). 

Booth. Then, seeing that you would become a party 
in his abduction, provided the others could be implicitly 
relied upon. I will put the question as to whom you con- 
sider most competent of assuming the responsibility of so 
important a charge? 

Davis. He whose mind is ever active, whose heart is 
with our cause, whose love is with our country; who will 
brave all things, even the very gallows, rather than swerve 
in resolution, or falter in determination: who will be awake, 
when his eyes are closed in slumber, and observant, when 
there's nothing great to see. 

Booth. Who. think you. is such a man? 

Davis. By what I have heard, and seen, and noticed, 
none could be more worthy than yourself. 

Booth. Were I to engage to perform that delicate 
business, would you trust me? 

Davis. Implicitly. 

Booth. And if I got into trouble, assist me? 

Davis. Most assuredly. 

Booth. Then I accept, and swear, by the God in 
heaven, that he, who is now President of the United States, 
will, within two months, fall from his throne of power! 

Davis. Well said, my friend: I congratulate you on 



8 J. Wilkes Booth; 

your bravery; and trust, that the oath just taken, will never 
be revoked. 

Booth. While life lasts, the incentive will grow in 
strength: beyond that, I know not what may come. 

Davis. Now that we have arrived at an understand- 
ing, satisfactory and pleasing to both, let us part. I have 
some business to attend to, and will meet you again in the 
morning (starts). • 

Booth. Hold! one thing more, ere we separate. 

Davis. {Stops and looks back). What's that, my 
friend ? 

Booth. A compact. 

Davis. A compact ? 

Booth. That's what I said. 

Daivs. Not at all necessary. 

Booth. But very essential. 

Davis. How so? 

Booth. In case that any misunderstanding should 
occur, a covenant 

Davis. We will waste no more time on that (rings). 

Enter Servant. 

Serv. Sir, did you ring? 

Davis. I would like some writing material immediate- 
ly [Exit Serv.] Have you any associates who would as- 
sist you ? 

Booth. Money will secure an army of them. 

Re-enter Servant (with materials). 

Davis. (Takes them) That will do. [Exit Serv.] 
Will you write it ? 

Booth. If you desire (writes). There, is that accept- 
able? 

Davis. (Looks it over.) Yes, there is nothing objec- 
tionable in it. (Signs and gives it back to Booth). 

Booth. Don't you wish a copy of it? 

Davis. I will trust you till morning; I guess nothing 
ing will happen to demand it. I will expect you in the 
morning. 

Booth. T will be here. 

Davis. (Rings.) I will have the Servant conduct 
you to the door. 

Enter Servant. 

Davis. (To Servant) Show this gentleman out. 
[Exit Booth with Servant at r. 2 e., and Davis 

at l. 1 e.] 



or, The National Tragedy. 9 

ACT I.— SCENE III. 

Hotel — Booth entering. 

Booth. Ahem! the idea of that old cove trying to 
get the best of me. He did not have any idea of the 
authorship of that anonymous advertisement, or letter — 
or whatever you call it. Would he bear a share of the 
expenses of the job? Yes, the whole; and how readly 
he was to guarantee the payment of the reward. Ah! 
well might he speak of falsity, for it is apparent in his 
every act, it is stamped upon his countenance, it is 
mingled with his words. Falsity, the most despicable ele- 
ment of man, is jeweled in the virtues of the human race. 
He who soars with wings of wisdom, will fall, ere his jour- 
ney's end is reached; and he, who, by shrewd cunningness, 
strives to deceive the real actor, will only deceive himself. 

Enter Servant. 

Sei^va:nt. Sir, a gentleman. [Surratt enters. Exit 
Servant^ 

Booth. Why, how do you do, old fellow? {shakes 
hands). It is a long time since I saw you. 

Sur. Yes, quite a while. I was in Cuba making ar- 
rangements for that clothing which was purchased, and 
which is now on its way to New York. 

Booth. What clothing? 

Sur. That infected clothing which is contemplated 
being sold to pawnbrokers in New York City. 

Booth. Are they aware of its character? 

Sur. Why bless you, no. 

Booth. I feel sorry for it: I do, indeed. I can never 
look upon the wholesale slaughter or murder of innocent 
people, without feeling repugnant towards those who 
conspire to destroy them. 

Sur. But, my dear friend, you must remember the 
noble cause for which 'tis done. 

Booth. Noble may be the cause — but damnable the 
action. 

Enter Davis. 

Davis. Excuse my intrusion, gentlemen, I was not 
aware that the parlor was occupied. 

Booth. No intrusion at all, sir. Mr. Davis, allow me 
to present my respected friend, Mr. Surratt, of Wash- 
ington. 



10 J. Wilkes Booth; 

Davis. Mr. Surratt, I am very much pleased to meet 
you. 

Sur. Mr. Davis, the honor of your acquaintance af- 
fords me great pleasure. 

Davis {To Surratt). Do you contemplate remaining 
any length of time in the city? 

Sue. No, sir; I depart in a few hours; I am on my 
way from Cuba, and desire to reach home as soon as pos- 
sible. 

Davis. I regret that you cannot remain with us a few 
days at least. 

Sur. I would be delighted to do so; but engagements 
demand my immediate return. Gentlemen, as I have 
some business that demands my attention in the city be- 
fore I leave, I must bid you adieu. 

Booth. Farewell, dear friend, well meet again ere 
long, at home; the days that elapse will be fraught with 
tidings of a prodigious nature; and on them, will depend 
the triumph of the Southern cause. [Exit /Sur]. 

Davis. Have you formed any plan yet as to the course 
of action to be taken in this matter? 

Booth. I have; I will proceed to Washington; there 
I have friends, and money can secure accomplices. I will 
lay a plot, such as the mind of man never before conceived; 
and weave a web of fate around the whole Cabinet, through 
which they can never break. My actions shall become 
changed; in the public belief, insanity will grasp me; and 
strange or improper conduct be attributed to its effects. 
Dementia will act my friend; it will serve me when all 
others are beyond my reach. Mr. Davis, I love the 
cause for which the South is struggling; I love to see her 
banner wave triumphant o'er the field of battle; I love to 
hear the shouts of victory pass from line to line; I love to 
watch the smiling faces of the loyal dead, as they crouch 
in sweet repose, beneath the ponderous feet of Moloch. 

Davis. May your sentiments be ever as they are this 
moment, and may your feelings reverberate in every por- 
tion of the land. I will arrange with the Secretary of the 
Treasury so you can get the reward 

Booth. My labors are beyond the reach of money, 
and only love of country can command them. Others may 
crave that paltry sum you offer, but I would loathe to 
take it as a gift [Exit]. 



or, The National Tragedy. 11 



ACT IL— SCENE I. 

Mrs. Surratt's house. Mrs. Surratt, Surratt, and 

Booth. 

Mrs. Sur. Mr. Booth, you act very strange since 
your return from the South. People say there is a very 
noticeable change in you. 

Booth. Do you notice any change? 

Mrs. Sur. I most certainly do; before you went to 
the South, you were cheerful, pleasant, and happy; now 
you are cold, sedate, and melancholy. 

Booth. The climate must have had an injurious effect 
on me; I do not feel as well as I did before I visited that 
section of the country. I think I will take a trip to Can- 
ada, it is a healthy place, and may serve to alleviate that 
drowsy feeling which so oppresses me \Exii\. 

Sur. Mother, what do you think ails Booth? He is 
not at all the fellow he used to be ? 

Mrs. Sur. My dear son, I think there is something 
wrong. 

Sur. Something wrong? Why, mother, you don't 
think he's ill, do you? 

Mrs. Sur. Not physically. 

Sur. Then you believe there is something on his mind 
that troubles him? 

Mrs. Sur. I do. 

Sur. Can you surmise anything which he would con- 
ceal from us ? 

Mrs. Sur. The disposition and character of people are 
as different as people themselves. 

Sur. Booth has always confided in me, and if there is 
anything unusual up, I think he'll tell me. 

Enter Servant. 

Serv. Mr. Surratt, a gentleman awaits you in the 
reception room. 

Sur. Did he send his card? 

Serv. No, sir; nor would he oblige me with his name. 

Sur. What sort of a looking man is he? 

Serv. If he would remain still, he would have the ap- 
pearance of a thorough gentleman; but he is continually 
looking around, and seems to be taking cognizance of 
every thing in the room. 

Mrs. Sur. Is he an elderly gentleman? 



L2 . J. Wilkes Booth; 

8erv. No, madam; he is not; he is about thirty — per- 
haps not quite so old. 

Sur. 1 am engaged at present, and have no special 
desire to be interrupted by this eccentric person. Tell 
him I am not at liberty to see him now. \_Exit Serv^] 

Mrs. Sur. Who can that strange man be? 

Sur. I don't know, though most likely a country 
friend. 

Re-enter Servant. 

Sur. Well? 

Serv. He persists in remaining; he says that he'll 
remain where he is until he sees you personally. 

Mrs. Sur. What impudence! 

Sur. My friend, whoever he is, must have some im- 
portant business with me, or else he would be more re- 
served in his conduct. 

Mrs. Sur. Possibly he is some crazy person who 

Sur. No, mother, I think not; all men are not what 
they seem; appearance is frequently at variance with de- 
signs, and the study of human character, is a tour over 
the field of nature. ( To Serv) Tell the gentleman that I 
will be with him immediately. 

Mrs. Sur. If you see J. Wilkes again this evening, 
tell him I would like to see him before he leaves for 
Canada. 

Sur. I will inform him of your desire, mother. I will 
now join this eccentricity below. [Exit botK\. 

ACT II.— SCENE II. 
Reception room — Payne — Surratt entering. 

Sur. Why Payne, old fellow, how do you do? You 
are the last man I expected to meet here. 

Payne. I scarcely expected to call on you, but the city 
being on my way to Canada, I thought I would pay you a 
visit. 

Sur. And I assure you that you are welcome, and 
will receive the hospitality which is due a guest; and the 
friendship which one friend should bestow upon another. 

Payne. Surratt, you have always been a true and 
faithful friend; your loyalty I will never doubt, and I am 
already under more obligations to yon than I can ever 
repay. 

Sur. My dear friend, trouble yourself not about things 
which are in themselves peaceful. 



or, The National Tragedy. 13 

Payne. By the way, when did you see our friend J. 
Wilkes? 

Sur. I saw him this morning. He has changed 
wonderfully since his Southern trip. He seems to have 
something on his mind which is distressing him beyond 
description. 

Payne. Where, think you, I would be most likely to 
find him ? 

Sur. When wanted, he is about as hard to find as a 
needle in a haystack. He is everywhere, and nowhere; 
knows everything, and sees nothing. 

Payne. But he is in the city, is he not? 

Sur. I couldn't say; he was here this morning, but is 
now doubtless on his way to Canada. 

Payne. Did he contemplate going to Canada? 

Sur. He said he would go there, as he thought it 
would improve his health. 

Payne. Is that the only reason he assigned for his 
going there ? 

Sur. It is. 

Payne. Well, if I'm not badly mistaken, he does not 
go to Canada solely for the improvement of his health. 

Sur. Do you think he had other reasons for going 
there ? 

Payne. Without any doubt, he had. 

Sur. Of what nature might they be? 

Payne. Of a nature 'that requires them to be kept secret. 

Sur. Is it possible that Booth has become entangled 
in a web of which he desires the world to be ignorant? 

Payne. Dear friend, it seems he has. 

Sur. How came you in possession of such mysterious 
knowledge ? 

Payne. By happening to be one of the few who are 
destined to become famous in the history of the Confed- 
erate States. 

Sur You speak enigmatically; I am unable to com- 
prehend you. 

Payne. And your inability to grasp my meaning, 
speaks none the worse in your favor. Man must learn to 
curtain his thoughts by words, or the passing winds might 
bear them to unhealthy climes. 

Sur. I am entirely at sea to your meaning. 

Payne. And perhaps it would be better that you 
remain so. 

Sur. Be that as it may, my anxiety is increasing in 
your evasive — 



14 J. Wilkes Booth; 

Payne. Say, rather, forbearance upon a subject which 
ere long will become a national theme. 

Sur. May I enquire — 

Payne. Anybody may inquire, but few are given the 
balm which soothes the nerves of anxiety. 

Sur. Do you believe me the friend that you found me 
in years gone by ? 

Payne. I do, and will ever regard you the same. I 
once trusted, and found you true; tried, and found you loyal; 
and in the bosom of suspicion, put you down as a confi- 
dential friend, to whom I might unhesitatingly entrust the 
most delicate of secrets. 

Sur. I am glad that you hold me the friend of former 
days, and am pleased to know that it was not through the 
fear of disclosure that you withheld the secret which ere 
long will become a national theme. 

Payne. It was not, dear friend, but through a feeling 
that walls are not always without ears, or that secret 
receptacles are ever absent. 

Sur. I credit you for your thoughtfulness, but on the 
present occasion, it is altogether unnecessary. 

Payne. It is safe in the tomb, for the lips of the dead 
will not betray the secrets of the living; but here, where 
walls are to hide the presence of the living, 'tis best 
beware. 

Sur. But, I assure you that we are alone, and will 
not be disturbed. 

Payne. Then I will tell you that which is foremost 
in my mind. About one year ago, while Lee was meeting 
defeat on ever} r hand, when his legions were falling on the 
line of march for want of food, and worn out by fatigue — 
when the soldiers, whose bravery will never be doubted, 
and whose patriotism will ever thrill the armies of the 
world, were fast losing confidence in their cause, a plan was 
conceived by which the whole Cabinet, President and Vice 
President, together with Gen. Grant, were to be murdered 
or otherwise disposed of, so as to leave the Federal Govern- 
ment without a head, in which event the Confederate 
troops might march without effectual resistance into their 
capital, and terminate the most bloody and memorable 
war that has ever marred the pages of history. Although 
this plan was conceived about a year ago, it was not per- 
fected until very recently — about the time that Booth 
made his Southern trip, I believe. 

Sur. By whom, and where, was this extraordinary plot 
originated ? 



or, The National Tragedy. 15 

Payne. People assign its nativity to the Knights of 
the Golden Cross; but those who are more intimately ac- 
quainted with the subject, are silent as to its fountain 
head. 

Sur. Then, if people are beginning to assign it an 
origin, it is not a secret that demands much caution? 

Payne. It is a secret, and it is not. In the North, 
few know anything about it; in the South, it is, the 
key-note of nearly every conversation. 

Sur. And do the people look upon it as an act that 
the world and humanity will sanction and approve? 

Payne. Little it matters how the people regard it. 
The preservation of the Confederacy is the one great cry 
that issues from the mouth of agony in the South. Hu- 
man blood crimsons the purest rivers in our land, and the 
virtue of the North has already crossed the meridian; and, 
like the sun, is sinking, little by little, and will finally 
disappear beyond the horizon of vice, in the bosom of the 
most ardent friends of the Union. The South is right. 
A noble cause is the object of contention. Money may 
draw a line of discrimination between the right and the 
wrong, but noble hearts will beat on either side. 

Enter Mrs. Surratt. 

Mrs. Sur. My dear son, I {perceives Payne) 

excuse me, I did not know you had company. 

Sur. No harm whatever, mother. Mr. Payne, allow 
me to make you acquainted with my mother; mother, this 
is Mr. Payne, an old and venerable friend of mine. 

Mrs. Sur. I am happy to meet Mr. Payne. 

Payne. The honor of Madam Surratt's acquaintance 
affords me much pleasure. 

Mrs. Sur. I came to announce that Mr. Booth is in 
the parlor. I had a long interview with him on the 
general subject of his recent change, his Southern trip, 
and contemplated visit to Canada. 

Pay t ne. I would like to see Mr. Booth very much 
before he goes. 

Sur. And you shall, old friend; come, we will join 
him in the parlor. {Exeunt omnes7\ 

ACT II.— SCENE III. 
A parlor — Booth and §urratt. 
Booth. The plan which we formed for the abduction 



lt> J. Wilkes Booth; 

of Lincoln is gone to the dust. It will never work. We 
could have no hope of successfully carrying out the 
scheme. It was madness ever to think of such a thing; it 
is folly to cherish the thought longer. I have several 
agents whom I engaged to assist us in that undertaking; 
among them Atzerodt, who was to ferry us across the 
river. I have decided on other plans, plans which have 
been rumored for some time in the South, and which I 
communicated to you about a month since. I enlisted 
Payne into the ranks, but did not entrust him with the 
u oil/ 1 until an oath of secrecy sealed his lips from harm. 
We are to meet the Confederate Secretary, Thompson, in 
Canada next week, when the time for action will be de- 
cide^ upon, and the money, necessary for the work, will be 
placed to our credit in the bank. 

Sur. I was speaking with Payne this morning, and 
was at a loss to know how he learned of our " oil " business. 
He seemed to know everything from the beginning. 

Booth. I told him all that I thought would be neces- 
sary for him to know, and what he could easily take 
care of. 

Sue,. Did you tell him that I was in the plot with 
you? 

Booth. 1 had no occasion to. 

Sur. I am glad of that, because I feigned ignorance 
of the whole matter this morning, and did my best to 
elicit what he knew about it. 

Booth. He is a man of strong temperament, irrevoca- 
ble resolution ; and, if well treated, an ardent friend; but 
misuse him, and he is a silent viper under shelter of the 
friendly grass, and when least expected will sting us with 
his venomed fangs. 

Enter Mrs. Surratt. 

Booth. Good evening, Mrs. Surratt; take a chair. I 
am glad you came, for I feel very lonesome. We have 
been talking about the change of tactics which necessity 
compelled us to make. 

Sur. What! did you divulge the secret to my mother? 

Booth. I did; because there was no alternative. She 
suspected, and suspicion is the worst of enemies. 

Mrs. Sur. My dear son, there is no cause for alarm. 
I hold the secret, and will guard it for your sake; a 
mother's love will never betray that which would be inju- 
rious to her son, though her conscience cannot approve of 
its commission. I would like to see the Southern cause 



or, The National Tragedy. 17 

succeed, because I think the people are unjustly oppressed; 
and, if there is no other way by which it can, we must 
resign ourselves to the consequences which will follow 
the act. 

Sur. Mother, you do not intend to become a promi- 
nent participant in the drama, do you? 

Mrs. Sur. A plot without a woman is never com- 
plete. Woman can act, where man's appearance would 
attract the greatest attention; she can watch, where her 
eyes would not be the center of attraction; she can listen, 
where to man, all would be stillness and slumber; in 
short, she can do many things which would be impossible 
for man to accomplish. 

Booth. Your mother is right, John; a woman's aid 
in the plot is indispensable. We can trust her and place 
confidence in her actions; we can go away from the city, 
and know that we leave friends behind who'll guard our 
interests. 

Sur. If fate has so decreed it, that my mother, whose 
character is among the unquestioned, and whose virtue is 
like a lilly bleaching into a lustrous whiteness as the years 
roll by, is to leave behind her all the happiness of home, to 
blanch the rosy cheeks of sister with a curse that's worse 
than death, so be it! All persons are masters of their own 
conscience, and the majority generally follow the dictates 
thereof. 

Mrs. Sur. But, my son, you forget the crime that 
you yourself are about to perpetrate, and which will cast 
a shadow equally as dark as that of mine upon the sun- 
shine of our happy home. 

Sur. No, mother, I do not, nor cannot I forget it! It 
has been too dear, too lovely, too pleasant, to be so easily 
forgotten. But necessity compels me to take the steps I do. 
I am entangled in a net, and its cursed threads are wound 
around my every limb. I am inextricably bound by an 
oath which I value above life. [Exit]. 

Booth. So the fever is beginning to make its appear- 
ance ! 

Mrs. Sur. Great caution must have been taken in 
admitting members into the ring? 

Booth. Yes, or there would have been no ring to 
receive them. Any combination that defies the law must be 
protected on every side with the utmost vigilance. He 
who assumes the responsibility of thwarting the hopes and 
ambition of a whole nation, must beawre, else a few of 
the many may conspire against him: and, instead of rising 



18 J. Wilkes Booth; 

to the highest round on the ladder of fame, and wielding 
the sceptre of triumph over the heads of his credulous fol- 
lowers, he will fall the victim of his own negligence! I 
have an interest in the South — not pecuniary, because 
money is no factor in my actions — but because I think 
that their cause is right; because I believe that they have 
been unjustly oppressed; deprived of property which, by 
all the laws of equity, was theirs; and, instead of receiving 
the sympathy of what we are pleased to term the civilized 
world, they were looked upon with scorn and contempt, 
and treated, by their own brethern at home, as slaves 
within the realm of a master. They were watched on all 
sides as spies; their Representatives in Congress were twitted 
of treason; the general interests of the South were being 
destroyed; and the only manner in which they could 
exonerate their names, compel the North to yield that 
honor due them, to show to the world that no braver, 
no better, no grander, or nobler souls were incarnated 
in human form, was to bear arms on the field where might 
is magistrate of right! 

Mrs. Sue. How strong are the Southern forces at 
present ? 

Booth. I am unable to answer that question definitely 
at this moment, madam, though I believe they are strong 
enough to mow down the Northern forces, like wheat in 
harvest. 

Mrs. Sur. And if they are so competent, pray, why 
do they not show their power? 

Booth. Because, madam, their victory is not to be 
won wholly by their struggles in the field. 

Mrs. Sur. But they might save their men from being 
slaughtered like 

Booth. That's what they go there for, madam; and 
when we see danger in front of us, we can blame none but 
ourselves, if we run headforemost into it. This world, at 
most, is but a home of trouble; every man is surrounded 
by dangers of which he scarcely dreams; and, if by chance, 
one should go through its highways upon the golden 
chariot of bliss, we would mark him as a stranger or an 
alien in the land. 

Mrs. Sur. I do wish that the war was over, and that 
peace was again established; for it is so dreary, and lonesome, 
and sad — so horrible ! 

Booth. And if things go as we expect, the war will 
not last much longer. One short hour's work will close 
the horrible scene of a five years' struggle. Had not our 



or, The National Tragedy. 19 

plans of abduction been frustrated, by what we may be 
kified in calling impossibilities, I dare say, that the war 

Id now be at end. and the frightful scenes that - 

k the mind of humanity, would no longer be visible: 
this beautiful country, stretching, as it does, over the most 
envied portions of the continent, would no longer be the 
scene of human agony and pain — all would be quiet. 

■eful. and happy: and the cradle of human joy. in 
which all the world is interested, would rock, in ondispnt 
triumph, on the sacred soil of America. \^Exit\ 

Mrs. Sur. Dear me. if men aren't indeed strange! 

»]. 

ACT YL— SCENE IV. 

A ' BURRATfa 

Paths. Curses upon him! Curses upon him! I would 
that I had never seen his face: for under the generous 
mantle of protection, lurks the vile elenien- it. An 

actor, not only by pi fessi n. but by nature: deceiving all 
with whom he comes in contact, and with his polished arts 
and manners, beguiles the weary on the ragged road of 
life. 

Enter Servant. 

See v. Pray, Mr. Payne, of whom are you speaking? 

Pathb. ( M one whose magic and mesmeric powers are 
master- of mind. 

Seev. Mr. Payne. I fear that you are ill, can I do 
anything for you? 

Paykb. Aye. much that might be useless, but little 
that would change the nature of my illness: medicines 
may soothe the throbbing heart, or drive away the pain 
that's caused by physical agents, but beyond that 'tis 
impossible for it to go: its office is not to reach those 
sombre thoughts that cloud the weary mind with 
trouble. 

Skbv. Then, sir, since my service can be of no avail 

i metaphysical disease, it wonld be better that I leave 
yourself, as the expression of unwelcome thoughts 
xften relieve the mind, and gladden spirits that are 
depressed. [Exit]. 

Pay^e. I have been a witness to many deeds, since I 

.ime acquainted with Booth, that I thought mankind 
could not perpetrate! I have seen crime in all its forms, 
from the embryo of innocence, to the withering degree of 
the most horrid guilt ! I have watched its development 



20 J. Wilkes Booth 



from the first appearance in the bud, until it faded from 
the eye of man ; but of all the crimes that I ever witnessed 
or knew, 1 can place none, as a parallel, by the side of one 
which is now in contemplation; and worse than that, I, 
who in all my youthful days, strove to render justice to 
one and all alike; endeavored to do good for my fellow 
creatures, assist the weary when writhing in distress — I 
who have fought in both the armies of the South and the 
North, and whose object it has ever been to raise and 
elevate the condition of my race, — have been brought 
within its cursed folds. When in Richmond, I went to a 
theatre, the first that I had ever seen, and was very much 
attracted by the performance, but more particularly, by the 
pleasing and wonderful voice of one of the actors. At 
that time, though but a boy, I considered myself a man: I 
prided myself on being as good as any, and cared little for 
the clothes which gave beauty to the form, or the money 
which brought influence and power to the hand. In this 
condition, and impelled by this feeling, I sought and gained 
an introduction to the great and eminent tragedian, J. 
Wilkes Booth. My first acquaintance with him was a new 
epoch in my life. It filled me with the keenest pleasures. 
and thrilled me with the sweetest hopes. But our 
situations in life were not equal. He was rich, influential, 
and eminent. I was poor, powerless, and obscure: fate 
seemed to guide him on the prosperous road of life: while 
misfortune took my hand and led me on in the ecstaey of a 
delusive hope — a hope that seemed like a beacon of night, 
shining through the darkness of adversity, and beckoning 
me on, over the weary and desolate road, to destruction. 
In this condition ended our first, and I may say. not 
unpleasant acquaintance. He took one road, and I took 
another. His led up the hill of fame: mine coursed its 
endless way through the valley and ended in the swamp 
of despair: in short, his led to the castle on the rock: and 
mine pointed towards the hut mired in the marsh below. 
I did not see him again for several years, and during the 
interim, poverty had crowned me witn her slighted cap: I 
wandered a vagrant from one place to another: the breach 
of sociality between us grew into a shoreless gulf, over 
which I could not cross in safety: and finally, I became 
dependent on public charity for my daily bread. While 
in this condition, walking through the streets of Wash- 
ington, with my clothes tattered, my feet almost shoeless, 
my stomach craving for food, and my prospects dreary in 
the extreme, — a friendly voice, that of my Richmond 



or, The National Tragedy. 21 

acquaintance, hailed me from a window; and. looking up, 
with almost an indifferent gaze, as poverty had made me 
friendless, I beheld the smiling and pleasant visage of my 
once short friend, J. Wilkes Booth. He expressed his 
sympathy at my deplorable condition; but, needing agents, 
as I afterwards learned, and fearing the loss of a rare 
opportunity to secure them, he bound me with 
an oath, ere he relieved my agony and distress, 
never to forsake him in his hellish work — of which I was 
then ignorant. Would that I had never seen his face, for 
deception is veiled behind the smile of friendship; and 
kindly words are uttered by mouths profaned with treason! 
Would that I had perished in the streets of plenty, that 
I had starved amid the luxuries of indolence, that I had 
frozen among a hardened and heartless people, rather than 
have fallen in the toils of such as he! But now my course 
is marked, my duty is before me. and though the execra- 
tions of the American people may follow me to the 
threshold of my grave, I cannot, or will not turn aside 
from duty! [Exit]. 

ACT III— SCEXE I. 

Rendezvous of the Conspirators in Canada — Booth, 

Payne, Atzerodt, Harrold, Surratt, and 

Thompson, drinking wine, etc. 

Booth, {striking glasses) Gentlemen, here's success 
to our plan, and may fortune favor us in all our deeds {all 
drink and replace glasses on table). 

Atz. Aye. sir: noble deeds and valiant men to work 
them. I tell you gentlemen, you can't imagine what 
pleasure it would have given me to have had the honor of 
rowing that old codger across the river. I really believe 
I would have been tempted to duck him. just to see how 
he'd act, and what he'd say. 

Sur. You wouldn't be liable to hear anything very 
pleasing. 

Atz. You may depend on it sir. that I wouldn't listen 
to much which was offensive. 

Booth. Xot much danger of that: 'twould be easy 
enough to call him to order when he trespassed on the 
rules of decorum. 

Atz. But I assure you, gentlemen, I would do more 
than simply call him to order. 

Har. What would you do? you wouldn't dare misuse 
him? 



22 J. Wilkes Booth; 

Atz. Wouldn't dare misuse him? Why, boy, you 
don't know me! I'm the most ferocious fellow in the 
country! Wouldn't dare misuse him? Why Fm as strong 
as a bear — brave as a lion — equal to a tiger — two tigers 
— several tigers. 

Thom. It is too bad you lost the rare opportunity of 
becoming distinguished by your valiant deeds. 

Atz. Yes, but I will — 

Booth. Soon have a chance to demonstrate the 
sincerity of your obstreperous words. 

Atz. And I will not be found wanting when the 
moment of decisive action comes [Exit]. 

Booth We can tell better when the time comes. I 
have seen brave men before, but when brought face to face 
with a danger so great as the present, they shrunk into a 
state of timidity which belied their magniloquent words. 

Pay:n"e. But there is little danger of Atzerodt going 
back on us. I think we will find him as true and brave 
as his words would make him — though there is no telling 
what may occur to change his disposition. 

Booth. Occur what will, we're not such fools as to 
place our lives in jeopardy for such as he. We have 
guarded the ring thus far with the utmost vigilance, and 
will not relax in circumspection at the very moment of 
our success. Our scheme is no trifling one, but it is of the 
deepest dye that works beneath the surface of a pleasant 
scene. 

Thom. My friends, you are aware of the cause of our 
meeting here, have you any remarks to make on the 
subject we came to discuss? 

Booth. Before any further business is transacted, it 
would be well to bind ourselves with an oath of secrecy-^-an 
oath to be silent on everything that occurs here to-night. 

Sur. The suggestion is very good. Has any one an 
oath suitable for the occasion? 

Payne. As far as I can see, gentlemen, an oath to 
that effect is altogether unnecessary. I think that we are 
all bound already by some oath or other. 

Booth. True, we are bound; but that oath does not 
cover the necessary ground. 

Payne. Very well, I have no objection; but if another 
oath will make our union more secure, and guard our 
secret better, then it would be to our advantage to take it. 

Booth. In anticipation of this necessity, I drew up 
one that will serve the required purpose well enough 
(takes a paper from his pocket). 



or, The National Tragedy. 



Re-enter Atzerodt. 

Atz. {Anxiously") What's that you've got in your 
hands ? 

Booth. We have decided that an oath, binding our- 
selves to keep secret what passes between us to-night, 
would not be out of the way. 

Atz. An oath ? 

Booth. Certainly. 

Atz. May all the saints, and all the angels, and all 
devils, in the kingdom of theology, come to our rescue! 
May He, who wields the scepter of omnipotence above us, 
don us with a power whereby we can maintain those which 
we have already taken! 

Booth. Then you object to take it? 

Atz. Object to take it? Not I! I can take more oaths 
than any man — than two men — than several men. 

Booth. And keep more than a dozen. 

Atz. Aye, sir, more than two — than sev — 

Booth. Well, you don't know what's in it yet. 

Atz. Then we'll listen to you read it, though I don't 
see as it will make any difference whether you read it or 
not. 

Booth. How would you know what binds you unless 
you heard it administered ? 

Atz. God knows ; He is the depository of many vile 
secrets, as well as hidden virtues; and I would prefer that 
he should keep some of mine. 

Booth. Nonsense will have its way, so I might as 
well read (reads): We do hereby swear that we will 
hang together, until the object of our union is accom- 
plished; and maintain secrecy on all transactions that may 
take place to-night. There, gentlemen, is the oath, you 
see there is nothing very bad in it, or anything that will 
tax oar powers beyond endurance. 

Atz. (Aside) Nonsense will have its way ! 

Thom. There seems to be nothing objectionable in 
that, gentlemen. 

Booth. All who are in favor of taking this oath, 
raise their right hand (all comply). Now, gentlemen, the 
violation of this oath is treason, and you all know the 
punishment of that crime. We can now speak freely, and 
without any reserve. We can confide in one another 
without any hesitation; and, as we are all interested in a 
common cause, unite our efforts in one grand defence 



24 J. Wilkes Booth; 

against the usurpation of our liberties; for surely, it is that 
for which the South is struggling. 

Thom. Ah, sir, you speak well! Would that all the 
Northern people were of a similar opinion. 

Booth. Were that the case, the brilliant field of honor 
which is now before us, would not swing its golden gate 
upon the rusty hinge of time for our ingress. But such 
could not be the case; it is incompatable, since it is as 
natural for diversity of opinion to exist, as it is for one 
mind to be separate and distinct from another. 

Thom. Well, let that diversity of opinion continue to 
exist, until it is destroyed by its own folly. We cannot 
stand here, like phantoms of a dream, and look, with un- 
affected eyes, upon the horrid scenes around us! We can 
not remain here, motionless as marble, and help the weary 
souls that are struggling in distress. Mars may truly be 
represented by those who are waiting for fortune to make 
a change in the tactics of the North; but were I to kneel 
before the shrine of a higher power than man, I would 
prostrate my humble form, in submissive obedience, at the 
feet of the Goddess of Victory. My love for her is incessant 
— and my devotion would rise like incense from the altar 
of despair, at the sight of her flying trophies! So let us 
not be silent and lifeless as figures of granite, but let our 
thoughts be spoken, and our actions noted; let us help 
those who are in want of assistance, and if the life of one 
or two must be the forfeit for those of thousands, let us not 
shrink from the sacrifice. Many are the noble souls that 
fall before the range of fiery demons; nameless are the 
homes made desolate throughout our land; countless are 
the orphans who wander through the streets of pity, and 
numberless the widows, whose mourning drips our land in 
tears! Ah, gentlemen, I cannot bear it! I cannot see the 
scene pass like a panorama, before my open eyes in silence; 
I must speak, though all the world may curse me! though 
my words may become daggers that will pierce me to the 
heart ! 

Booth. (To Thompson) My dear friend, you are 
here under orders of the Confederate government, are you 
not? 

Thom. I am, sir; and commissioned with full power 
to make whatever arrangements I deem necessary for our 
government and essential to our cause? 

Booth. Then you have some idea of the line of 
operation to be pursued ? 

Thom. I am open to any suggestion, and would not 



or, The National Tragedy. 25 

be surprised at anything. My duty, as far as I am officially 
concerned, is to listen to those who have opinions to offer, 
and choose the most efficient. 

Sur. Did Davis allude to anything specific? 

Thom. Not that he would urge upon you as impera- 
tive. He seems to have perfect confidence in your ability, 
and trusts entirely to your sagacity and prudence for the 
completion of the plan. 

Booth. Davis is aware of the method we prefer, and 
since he trusts implicitly to us, we will adopt the plan 
that we formed after the defeat of our former project — 
that of assassinating Lincoln, Johnson, and the whole 
Cabinet, together with Gen. Grant. 

Sur. Assassination is indeed despicable; but yet, we 
must do something — we must strike the fountain head, in 
order to stop the flow of trouble. 

Booth. And that flow will soon be stopped. When 
the blow is struck, it will be effective. 

Atz. Aye, well may you say that; for with our united 
force, we can subdue and conquer the entire world — nay 
two of them — several of them. 

Booth. Our plan of operation is complete; the course 
which we are to follow, lies directly before us; nerve and en- 
ergy are the only requirements for success, and those we may 
count upon as inseparably belonging to our association. 

Thom. I possess the commission which will authorize 
you to employ such assistance as you find necessary, and to 
carry out your project to its fullest extent. 

Booth. If it is convenient, I would like to look at it. 

Thom. (Takes a paper from his pocket) Here it is, 
you will see, by reading it, the conditions on which it will 
be granted. 

Booth. (Takes and reads it) The conditions are 
reasonable; I accept them. 

Thom. Then you are commissioned to act as the 
legitimate agent of the South. 

Booth. With the annexation of your signature. 

Thom. Certainly, I did not forget it ; I was only waiting 
for your acceptance (signs). 

Booth. We are now empowered to prosecute our 
plans. One month from to-day, on March the fourth, and 
Lincoln shall close his eyes in eternal rest. It is getting 
late, our business is transacted, and we might as well return 
to our respective hotels. Surratt, I wish you would call 
on me in the morning, I want to see you in regard, to this 
business. \Exit\. 



26 J. Wilkes Booth; 

Thom. Gentlemen, we might as well follow the 
example of our friend, Booth. [Exeunt omnes]. 

ACT III.— SCENE II. 

Booth's room at hotel — Booth and Surratt. 

Booth. Surratt, I suppose you are not aware of the 
conditions on which the commission is granted, are you ? 

Sur. I have had no opportunity to become familiar 
with them. 

Booth. So I thought. Well, it places at our command 
a large sum, to be used solely in securing accomplices to 
assassinate Lincoln and certain members of the Cabinet, 
therein mentioned. It offers us a munificent sum, when we 
are able to announce the exit of Lincoln from the stage 
of human trouble. 

Sur. We will hire accomplices; pay them what we 
must, and get them for what we can. 

Booth. Yes, but we must be wary, else we employ 
those who would betray our designs. We have men 
enough in our business now to execute our plans, provided 
we could intrust them with our intentions. 

Sur. Who, think you, in our Association, we might 
fear to know our plans ? 

Booth. There are several in whom I would not place 
a very tender trust. 

Sur. May I ask the names of those whom you think 
would become traitors to our cause ? 

Booth. The names which you demand are not mine 
to give. I charge none directly as being traitors, or point 
them out as schemers against our plans. I merely allude 
to them as being deficient in that will-power which is 
necessary to the retention of an important secret. 

Sur. But perhaps it would be to our interest that I 
should know those weak-minded persons also. 

Booth. You would have discovered them had your 
intercourse been so extensive as mine. They are Harrold 
and Atzerodt. 

Sur. If there is any danger of their being unable to 
keep our secret, we can leave them out of the preliminary 
arrangements, and entrust it to them only when we need 
their assistance. 

Booth. Yes, I think it would be the better way, 
because there is no use in running any risk, so long as it 
can be avoided. 



or, The National Tragedy. 27 

Enter Servant. 

Serv. A gentleman calls on Mr. Booth, shall I show 
him in? 

Booth. Tell the gentleman that I am engaged, and 
cannot possibly see him now, though if he will call in the 
course of an hour I will probably be at leisure. [Exit 
Serv.] We have all the arrangements by which we can 
carry out our programme to the word, with one exception, 
and that, the assignment of the parts. 

Sur. Which is nothing in comparison with what 
we've done. 

Re-enter Servant. 

Serv. The gentleman is obstinate; he will not depart 
without seeing you. He sent his card, hoping that that 
would be some incentive towards admitting him. 

Booth. ( Takes card and reads) ■' Michael O'Laugh- 
lin." Impossible that he should be here at this important 
moment! (To Serv.) Show him in, and tell him that, 
though busy, I have always time and welcome for him. 
[Exit Serv.] He is a man I had no idea of seeing, and 
will prove one of our most valuable friends. 

Sur. I was not aware of his presence in the city; it 
must be that he has recently arrived. 

Enter O'Laughlin. 

Booth. ( Taking his hand) Old friend! how are you, 
anyway ? It is a long time since I have seen you. Where 
have you been, what's the news, and how's everything? 

O'Laugh. Well, Booth, you're the same old friend, as 
usual, though I doubt my ability to respond to your 
questions at present. (To Sur.) Hello, pard., where did 
you hail from? It seems very fortunate that we should 
meet so unexpectedly, and at such a time. 

Booth. Yes, it is indeed fortunate. 

Sur. We will not be under the necessity of getting 
another in your place. 

O'Laugh. I suppose you refer to my situation in the 
u oil business "? 

Sur. Yes. 

Booth. We have the thing in our own hands now; 
we can conduct it as we like. 

O'Laugh. I don't understand you. 

Booth. Well, it is simply this: Last night we had a 
meeting of the stockholders (you understand what I mean) 



28 J. Wilkes Booth; 

aud it was decided that the affair should be placed in our 
hands, and that we could take whatever action we saw fit 
about it. 

O'Laugh. Of course you've decided on the project 
of assassination? 

Booth. That we have, and are now together to choose 
the principals in the action. 

O'Laugh. You will consider me among the first. 

Booth. Yes, and assign you an honorable duty to 
perform. 

O'Laugh. With an emolument consistent with the 
risk? 

Booth. We have considered that, and will not be 
averse to reasonable demands. 

O'Laugh. Have you made the appointments yet? 

Booth. No, but I will proceed to do so immediately. 
I think that you will be able to take care of Grant, will 
you not? 

O'Laugh. Yes, and, I think, without much trouble. 

Booth. Surratt and myself will manage to take care 
of old kk Abe;" we'll leave Johnson to the kind attention of 
Atzerodt, and turn Seward over to the tender care of 
Payne. I think that will be sufficient. They are the most 
prominent men of the Government, and their loss will be 
sorely felt throughout the land [Exeunt omnes^ 

ACT III— SCENE III. 
Surratt's house— Mrs. Surratt and Dr. Mudd. 

Mrs. Sur. Doctor, I suppose you are cognizant of the 
new plans formed for the purpose of ridding the Govern- 
ment of the troublesome officials? 

Mudd. Well, madam, although I am not wholly 
ignorant of them, yet my position is not such as would 
afford me so intimate an acquaintance as yourself. 

Mrs. Sur. True, I did not, of course, expect to find 
you as thoroughly versed in them as a principal accomplice 
— or quite so ignorant as the generality. 

Mudd. Then, madam, your anticipations are, to their 
fullest extent, realized. I first learned of the new change 
a few days ago, and have since been unable to see the 
young leader who so ingeniously conceived the plot. The 
plan, if successfully executed, will certainly lead to the 
desired end. The Southern cause will no longer be scouted 
at, or condemned as one of the follies of a prosperous 



or, The National Tragedy. 29 

nation; but it will be held up as an example, before the 
eyes of individual oppression, as one of the most sacred 
causes for which a people ever fought. There is a great 
tendency, on the part of humanity, to assign the erroneous 
or defaulted side to the most unfortunate or defeated party. 
And. however much the South may be looked upon as in 
error to-day, if time only crowns it with victory, the South 
will be hailed as one of the most righteous nations that 
ever took the field. So you see the wrong, on whatever 
side it might have originally been, always appears with 
the weaker. Man is prone to accept it as a fact, and so 
long as superstition continues to reign over the throne of 
his intellect, so long will he continue subordinate to those 
higher and nobler qualities which shine most brilliant in 
the darkened firmament of trouble. 

Mrs. Sur. I suppose you will not object to lend a 
a hand, if called upon, to further their plans? 

Mudd. No: anything that I have is for them to 
command; I will help them whenever it is in my power 
to do so. I am an ardent admirer of the cause for which 
they labor, and would willingly lose the last cent I possess. 
if it will, in anyway, assist them in their undertaking. 

Mrs. Sue. I do not think you will be expected to help 
them pecuniarily, however otherwise you may be called 
upon. 

Mudd. Be it in whatever manner it may, my services 
will ever be at their command. I sympathize with the 
South because I think they have been unjustly treated; 
and if feeble actions like mine can enhance so noble a 
cause, it will be a recompense far exceeding my most 
extravagant expectation. 

Enter Servant. 

Serv. Doctor Mudd's buggy awaits him at the door. 

Mudd. Inform the driver that I will be there directly. 
[Exit Serv.'] I would like to see Booth very much before 
I return home. I have some business with him, and 
thought it possible that I might find him here. 

Mrs. Sub. And well might you have fostered such a 
hope. He used to be a constant visitor, but of late, appears 
to be taken up entirely with other engagements. 

Mudd. Well, it makes no material difference now, 
though it would be convenient, since I'm in the city and 
may not have occasion to come again for weeks. 

Mrs. Sur. I will tell him, of your desire to see him, 
and he will doubtless drive out. 



30 J. Wilkes Booth; 

Mudd. I am under many obligations to you, Mrs. 
Surratt, and if you will favor me with your presence at 
some convenient day, I will endeavor to repay them. 
{Exit]. 

Mrs. Sur. His house is exactly what the conspirators 
want. It is adapted to their business, and its location 
could not be better. It will shield them from the scruti- 
nizing eyes of public vigilance. I will take advantage of 
his invitation, visit him, and make what arrangements are 
necessary for their reception. [Exit\ 

ACT III.— SCENE IV. 

Booth's room — Booth, Surratt, Dr. Mudd, and 
Weichman entering. 

Booth. Gentlemen, sit down and make yourselves at 
home. I haven't anything very amusing to offer you, but 
I will make it as pleasant as is possible under the 
circumstances. 

Sur. We know your hospitality too well, old fellow, 
to think that circumstances would ever be unfavorable for 
a pleasant time. 

Booth. Knowledge is a falsehood in the vocabulary of 
truth. We use it too lightly to express those thoughts that 
come like lightning to our minds. Reality may pass in all 
its forms before us, and we judge it by the garb that 
appears the most brilliant to our eyes. The conclusion at 
which we arrive, will be a natural offspring of its parent 
premises, and may be considered legitimate or not; as its 
parents are what they seem, or something else. 

Weich. I have always looked upon enigmas as the 
most amusing agents of a language: and if Mr. Booth 
continues in his metaphysical strain, we will not fail in 
the realization of that pleasure which he feels his incom- 
petency to render. 

Booth. ( Furnishing wine and cigars) Help your- 
selves, gentlemen. Doctor, I would like to speak with 
you, will you please step into the hall a moment? 

Mudd. Certainly. ( Goes, soon returns and calls 
out Surratt.) 

Weich. I would consider this rather strange conduct 
on the part of my new friends. My hosts might act a 
little more courteous, even though my presence is some- 
what distressing, as it must be, since they see proper to 
hold a side conference. It has never been my custom to 
intrude upon the socialty of friends; and, if I have done 



or, The National Tragedy. 31 

so in this instance, I know not where to attribute the 
fault. 

Re-enter Mudd. 

Mudd. Mr. Weichman, I hope you will pardon me for 
this breach of courtesy. Booth had some private business 
with me; he desires to purchase my farm, but as he is not 
inclined to pay the price I ask for it, I have no desire to 
sell. 

Re-enter Booth and Surratt. 

Booth. Mr. Weichman, I did not intend to bring you 
to my room, and then insult you. I trust that you will 
overlook my thoughtlessness. I desire to buy Mr. Mudd's 
farm, but he's obstinate and indisposed to sell it. 

Weich. There is no offence whatever. I was just 
reprimanding myself for having so inconsiderately accepted 
your invitation. (Booth, Surratt and Mudd sit around 
a table, Booth draws an envelope from his pocket, 
cuts the back out, and makes marks.) 

Mudd. It runs the other way. 

Booth. Yes, but this alley, or, rather, lane, is inter- 
sected by this one, which runs behind the house, and into 
the street, here {indicating a place on the envelope). 

Mudd. You are right, I did not think of that — I will 
consider the price. 

Booth. Well, gentlemen, let's have some refreshments. 

Weigh. I do not wish for any — 

Booth. Refusal to my invitation, and will not accept 
it, either. Come, you must not feel that we purposely left 
you alone, or that we had the slightest intention to offend 
you by doing so. [Exeunt omnes]. 

ACT III.— SCENE V. 

Mrs. Surratt's house — Mrs. Surratt, Weichman and 

others. Enter Surratt, very much excited; rushes 

frantically around room, brandishing revolver . 

Weich. Why, Mr. Surratt, what under heavens ails 
you ? Be quiet. 

Sur. I will shoot any man who comes into this room; 
my hopes are gone and my prospects blighted; I want 
something to do; can you get me a clerkship? 

Wiech. I did not know you were in need of work; I 
thought you were making it go very well in the " oil 
business." 



32 J. Wilkes Booth; 

Sur. Sol was, but the chief — the proprietor — the 
firm for which I — we were doing business failed, — couldn't 
accomplish — lost their — capital. 

Weigh. Then I will do the best I can for you. If 
there is a place vacant, I will spare no efforts towards 
securing it for you. 

Sur. I am going to my room, mother; let no one 
disturb me. If anybody calls for me, tell them I'm in 
Canada — or somewhere else — I don't care where, or how 
far, only not here. [Exit]. 

Mrs. Sur. Something, indeed, must have gone wrong; 
he acts as though he were mad — mad, did I say? Aye, 
mad! We must find him; we cannot leave him alone — 
cannot leave him with that messenger of death in his 
grasp. [Exeunt omnes\ 

ACT III.— SCENE VI. 

Lloyd's house — Mrs. Surratt and Surratt entering; 

Surratt carrying two carbines, a rope, 

and ammunition* 

Sur. Here are those " shooting irons " ; I want you to 
put them away until they are called for, which will not be 
very long. 

Lloyd. My gracious, man! I cannot hide them; I 
haven't got any place. 

Sur. I will show you where you can conceal them 
without any trouble. 

Lloyd But I do not wish them in the house; if any- 
thing should happen, and those "shooting irons" be found in 
my possession, I would swing for it, I tell you, I would — I 
tell you, I know I would — nothing could save me — I should 
die — be hanged. 

Sur. But there is no danger of their being found. 
Come with me and I will show you where you can conceal 
them without any fear of detection. [Exit Lloyd and 
Surratt.] 

Mrs. Sur. Next Friday, and Lincoln dies. I must 
bring a few things out here before that, so that everything 
will be in good shape. 

Re-enter Lloyd and Surratt. 

Lloyd. Well, as long as I've been in this house, that's 
a place that has utterly escaped my notice. Why, the 
most wary in Washington would not think of looking 
between those joists. 



or, The National Tragedy. 33 

Sur. Come, we must be going; we haven't got any 
time to lose. 

Mrs. Sur. (To Lloyd) Be sure and have those 
" shooting irons " ready to deliver at a moment's notice. 
They will be called for in a few days — or rather in a few 
evenings. 

Lloyd. I will have those " shooting irons " ready — 

Sur. Come, mother. [Exeunt omnes]. 



ACT IV.— SCENE I. 
White House — Lincoln, Mrs. Lincoln and friends. 

Mrs. Lin. Dear husband, do you think this war will 
ever cease? It is so horrible, and there are so many 
innocent people killed, and wounded, and disfigured; and 
such a sombre melancholy spread over the once happy 
homes of the country. I almost wish the South had won 
their cause in the beginning, for then there would have 
been so much misery averted, so many lives spared from 
merciless slaughter, and so many unknown and bloody 
graves blooming with the verdure of nature. 

Lin. My dear wife, let such a thought not mature in 
a brain so clear as yours. Those who have fallen with the 
stars and stripes before them, lie in the most holy graves that 
God can give. They are shrouded with a mantle of glory 
that will never fade away; and although their names are 
known but on the regimental rolls from which they fell, 
yet they are more honored, more famous, and will live 
longer in the memory of mankind than those whose 
names are wrought in letters of gold upon the indu- 
rated throne of power! This war will, ere long, cease. 
The degree of animosity with which one party met 
the other on the field of deadly strife, is already be- 
coming less; and the hostile feeling which was wont to 
lead the nobler soldiers through the labyrinth and maze of 
inconsistant war, is perceptibly abated. The war must 
soon end, for the power and determination of the North 
is known and felt throughout the whole civilized world 
to-day. No power will dare interfere to help the South in 
their unworthy cause: and, left to the mercy of their own 
resources, they will fall, the conquered-victors, of the loyal 
men who march beneath the banner of our great Republic ! 
That which to-day seems slaughter and devastation — which 
holds the world in consternation as to the consequences, 
which must soon be known, will, hanging from the walls 



34 J. Wilkes Booth; 

of memory, and reflected into the mystic future that is yet 
to dawn, with brilliant light, upon the beauties of the 
earth, be regarded as the most noble actions and the most 
sacred sacrifices that mankind ever made! For there can 
be nothing grander, or nobler, or sublimer in the actions 
of men, than the maintenance of the rights of one another, 
and the advocation of the principles which are dearer, to 
one and all than life itself ! The American people know but 
one principle, freedom, and that principle will live forever; 
they have but one sentiment, the preservation of the heritage 
they received from the heroes of the Revolution, and that 
sentiment will descend with the nobility of man until he 
becomes as degraded as a tyrant is to-day — they have but 
one hope, that the grand and magnificent temple of liberty 
that stands like a castle of ages upon the rock of freedom, 
will be a glory to the land, and an unenvied gift to unborn 
millions. May God grant their hope, may he help them, 
may he watch over and shield them; and may the Goddess 
of Victory lead our armies in the field; for ours is a cause 
such as men had never before occasion to contend! It is a 
noble one, though rebels may pollute the word, and is 
santified by all the tender ties that makes man's life of 
worth. Though the fields, and the valleys, and the 
meadows, and the mountains, are all stained by the 
crimson gifts of Union soldiers, yet time will weather off 
those stains, and in their place will come the most pictur- 
esque scenery that the imagination can conceive; and from 
the trenches that mark the fields of battle — from promis- 
cuous graves that point a finger to unknown dead — from 
desolated homes, where fell the props of families struggling 
for their daily bread — will grow a richer, a grander, a 
sublimer harvest than ever filled our nation's fields before! 

Mrs. Lik. My dear husband, you are becoming excited, 
let the subject drop, and we will go for an evening ride. 

Lln*. Your wish is my command. I will go. for I feel 
that the evening breeze will soothe my aching brow. 
{Exeunt omnes.\ 

ACT IV.— SCENE II. 

Booth waiting at the north wing of the Capitol. 

He is dressed in a slouch suit; pants tucked into 

hoot tops, and an old hat drawn over his eyes. 

Booth. Lincoln, the tyrant and despot of the North, 
will doubtless pass me here to-night. If alone, I play a 
role which fate had never before decreed that I should act. 



or, The National Tragedy. 35 

People say that I play the part of tragic well upon the 
stage. Well may they, for my histrionic fame in that 
character is known far and wide. I have studied the 
passions and emotions which take possession of the soul 
when it is about to digress from the paths of virtue, and 
know full well the feelings that actuate the man who holds 
the dagger in the hand of crime. The time is come when 
the oppressor of the American people must perish. Lincoln, 
the violator of our sacred rights, must die, and all the 
principles which have grown up around him, must fall 
with him. 

Enter friend of Booth. 

Friend. Hello, Booth; what in the world brings you 
here? You're lost, are you not? {Aside) Is that Booth? 
It don't look like him — yes it does. (To Booth) Hello, 
I say; don't you hear me? (Aside) If that man isn't 
Booth, I'll be hanged. But why don't he answer, and 
why is he so dressed? ( To Booth) Say, you fellow trying 
to hide, what are you doing there? Come, Booth, are you 
going with me? (Aside) Well, that's strange. I may be 
mistaken in the personage, but I'm going to see. ( Goes 
up to Booth) Why, old friend, I was positive that my 
eyes did not deceive me. 

Booth. Hem! How do you do. I have been waiting 
for a friend, and if he does not come before long, I will 
not wait. 

Lincoln passes. 

Friend. My time will be pretty well occupied this 
evening. I fear that I cannot wait until that friend arrives, 
so I will bid you good night. I have more engagements 
than a dead man can attend to. [Exit]. 

Booth. Foiled again! Curses on him! They will 
always appear when we least expect or desire them! 
To-night is the night that Lincoln was to die — the 
morrow, the day on which the fall of Tyranny was to 
crash throughout the North! But though Minos lives 
to-night, by the unexpected appearance of Pylades. yet, 
'tis only to meet his death upon another stage! [Exit], 

ACT IV.— SCENE III. 

Lincoln and his wife. 

Lin. My dear, I suppose you will be prepared for the 
theatre to-morrow evening? You know we have promised 



36 J. Wilkes Booth; 

to attend, and our failure to do so would so would be the 
source of great disappointment to the public. 

Mrs. Lin. Oh that theatre! I had forgotten all about 
it. I wish you hadn't promised to attend; besides, I am 
not at all prepared, and do not see how I can possibly make 
ready in so short a time. 

Lin. Oh, never mind your preparations or your 
making ready; go as you are: simplicity will ever receive a 
more cordial welcome than pomposity. You women are 
never ready — after marriage — for anything but hesitation, 
and if men were to — 

Enter Maj. Kathbun and Miss Harris. 

Mrs. Lin. Oh here are Maj. Rathbun and Miss Harris 
(shakes hands)* I am so glad to see you. 

Lin. Major, how does the world use you (gives him 
his hand) ? 

Maj. Rath. Not ver}- kindly, I assure you. I have 
seen better times; but then, 'twas where peace was in the 
cradle of its birth, and the mother of tranquility sat in 
quiet joy beside the cradle of her sleeping child. 

Lin. Miss Harris, I am exceedingly glad to see you. 
It gives me great pleasure to be your host, and I will 
endeavor to make your visit all that pleasure demands, 
though I am not so vain as to be wholly unconscious of 
my defects in the department of society. 

Miss Harris. I have no fear, as to your inability, Mr. 
Lincoln. 

Lin. Major, the appearance of your uniform arouses 
contending emotions in my breast. I love to see the blue, 
for it is becoming to the most graceful form, though its 
very presence sends a thrill of pain through my every 
nerve ; and the cause for which it is worm, is more oppres- 
sive to my mind, than all the chains that ever bound the 
human race in thraldom. 

Maj. Rath. I, too, regret the necessity which compels 
me to wear it. But I firmly trust, that through your wise 
and prudent measures, I will soon be able to lay it 
peacefully aside. 

Lin. Major, k You have kindly reminded me that in 
my hands is the task of restoring peace to our distracted 
country. I can say, in return, sir, that all the political 
sentiments I entertain, have been drawn, so far as I have 
been able to draw them, from the sentiments which 
originated and found birth in the Declaration of Independ- 
ence. I have often pondered over the dangers which 



or, The National Tragedy. 37 

were incurred by the men who adopted the Declara- 
tion of Independence. I have pondered over the toils 
that were endured by the officers and soldiers of the 
army who achieved that independence. I have often 
enquired of myself what great principle or idea it was that 
kept this confederacy so long together. It was not the 
mere matter of the separation of the colonies from the 
mother land, but something in that Declaration giving 
liberty, not alone to the people of this country, but hope 
for the world for all future time. It was that which gave 
promise that, in due time, the weights should be lifted from 
the shoulders of all men, and that all should have an equal 
chance. This is the sentiment embodied in the Declaration 
of Independence. How, my friends, can this country be 
saved upon that basis ? If it can, I will consider myself 
one of the happiest men in the world, if I can help to save 
it. If it can't be saved upon that principle, it will be truly 
awful. But if this country cannot be saved without giving 
up that principle, I would rather be assassinated on this 
spot than to surrender it.' [Exeunt omnes.] 

ACT IV.— SCENE IV. 

Booth's room— Enter Booth, with knife, revolver, and 
spurs, throwing them carelessly aside. 

Booth. How vain is man, to think that power can 
always make him great. He who wields the greatest scepter 
on the earth to-day, will fall to-night the victim of his 
weakest foe ! Power is but a name to signify the glory of 
the hour; and is used, generally, against the interest of 
those who possess it. I have no power, and glory I do 
not seek. I'm but one of the many, who're cast upon the 
world to battle with its ways; and our opinions of right 
and wrong are formed according to the impressions which 
circumstances make upon our minds. I go, to-night, to 
act a part that'll place my name upon the foremost page of 
history; that will cause it to be associated and descend 
with Lincoln's through unborn generations, to the end of 
time. " Right or wrong, God judge me, not man. For be 
my motive good or bad, of^one thing I am sure, the lasting 
condemnation of the North. I love peace more than life. 
Have loved the Union beyond expression. For four years 
have I waited, hoped and prayed for the dark clouds to 
break, and for a restoration of our former sunshine. To 
wait longer would be a crime. All hope for peace is dead. 
My prayers have proved as idle as my hopes. God's will 



38 J. Wilkes Booth; 

be done. I go to see and share the bitter end. I have 
ever held the South were right. The very nomination of 
Abraham Lincoln, five years ago, spoke plainly, war — war 
upon Southern rights and institutions. His election proved 
it. 'Await an overt act.' Yes, till you are bound and 
plundered. What folly! The South was wise. Who 
thinks of argument, or patience, when the finger of his 
enemy presses on the trigger? In a foreign war, I, too, 
could say, * country, right or wrong.' But in a struggle 
such as ours (where the brother strives to pierce the 
brother's heart), for God's sake, choose the right. When 
a country like this spurns justice from her side, she 
forfeits the allegiance of every honest freeman, and should 
leave him untrammeled by any fealty soever, to act as his 
conscience may approve. People of the Xorth! to hate 
tyranny, to love liberty and justice, to strike at wrong and 
oppression, was the teaching of our fathers. The study of 
our early history will not let me forget it, and may it 
never. This country was formed for the white, and not 
for the black man. And looking upon African slavery 
from the same standpoint held by the noble framers of our 
Constitution, I, for one, have ever considered it one of the 
greatest blessings (for themselves and for us) that God ever 
bestowed upon a favored nation. Witness, heretofore, our 
wealth and power; witness their elevation and enlighten- 
ment above their race elsewhere. I have lived among it 
most of my life, and have seen less harsh treatment from 
master to man, than I have beheld in the North from 
father to son. Yet, heaven knows, no one would be willing 
to do more for the negro race than I. could I but see a 
way to still better their condition. But Lincoln's policy 
is only preparing the way for their total annihilation. The 
South are not, nor have*been, fighting for the continuance 
of slavery. The first battle of Bull Run did away with 
that idea. The causes since for war, have been as noble 
and greater far than those that urged our fathers on. 
Even should we allow they were wrong at the beginning 
of this contest, cruelty and injustice have made the 
wrong become the right, and they stand now (before the 
wonder and admiration of the world) as noble a band of 
patriotic heroes. Hereafter, reading of their deeds. 
Thermopylae will be forgotten. 

When I aided in the capture and execution of John 
Brown (a murderer on our western border, who was fairly 
tried and convicted, before an impartial judge and jury) 
of treason. . and who has since been made a God), I was 



or, The National Tragedy. 39 

proud of niy little share in the transaction, for I deemed 
it my duty, that I was helping our common country to 
perform an act of justice. But what was a crime in poor 
John Brown, is now considered (by themselves) as the 
greatest and only virtue of the whole Republican party. 
Strange transmigration! Vice is to become a virtue, 
simply because more indulge in it. I thought then, as 
now, that the abolitionists were the only traitors in the 
land, and that the entire party deserved the same fate as 
poor old Brown, not because they wished to abolish slavery, 
but on account of the means they have ever endeavored to 
use to effect that abolition. If Brown were living, I doubt 
whether he, himself, would set slavery against the Union. 
Most, or many, in the North; do openly curse the 
Union, if the South are to return, and retain a single 
right guaranteed to them by every tie which we once 
revered as sacred. The South can make no choice. It 
is either extermination, or slavery for themselves (worse 
than death) to draw from. I know my choice. I have 
also studied hard to discover upon what grounds the right 
of a State to secede has been denied, when our very name, 
United States, and the Declaration of Independence, both 
provide for secession. But this is no time for words. I 
know how foolish I shall be deemed for undertaking such a 
step as this, where, on one side. I have many friends, and 
everything to make me happy, where my profession alone 
has gained me an income of more than twenty thousand 
dollars a year, and where my great personal ambition in 
my profession has such a great field for labor. On the 
other hand, the South have never bestowed upon me one 
kind word: a place now where I have no friends, except 
beneath the sod; a place where I must either 'become a 
private soldier, or a beggar. To give up all the former for 
the latter, besides my mother and sisters, whom I love so 
dearly (although they so widely differ with me in opinion) 
seems insane; but God is my judge. I love justice more 
than I do a country that disowns it; more than fame and 
wealth more — heaven pardon me if wrong — more than a 
happy home. I have never been upon a battle field, but 
0, my countrymen, cfould you all but see the reality or 
effects of this horrid war, as I have seen them in every 
State (save Virginia), I know you would think like me, 
and would pray the Almighty to create in the Northern 
mind a sense of right and justice (even should it possess no 
seasoning of mercy) and the act would dry up this sea of 
blood between us, which is daily growing wider. Alas! 



40 J. Wilkes Booth 



poor country, is she to meet her threatened .doom ? Four 
years ago, I would have given a thousand lives to see her 
remain (as I had always known her) powerful and un- 
broken. And even now, I would hold my life as naught 
to see her what she was. ! if the fearful scenes of the 
past four years had never been enacted, or if what has 
been had been but a frightful dream, from which we could 
now awake, with what overflowing hearts could we bless 
our God, and pray for his continued favor. How I have 
loved the old flag can never now be known. A few years 
since, and the world could boast of none so pure and 
spotless. But T have of late been seeing and hearing of 
the Moody deeds of which she has been made the 
emblem, and would shudder to think how changed she 
has grown. 0, how I have longed to see her break from 
the mist of blood and death that circles 'round her folds, 
spoiling her beauty and tarnishing her honor. But no; 
day by day she has been dragged deeper and deeper into 
cruelty and oppression; till now (in my eyes) her once 
bright red stripes look like bloody gashes on the face of 
heaven. I look now upon my early admiration of her 
glory as a dream. My love (as things stand to-day) is for 
the South alone. Nor do I deem it a dishonor in attempt- 
ing the life of him to whom she owes so much misery. If 
success attends me, I go penniless to her side. They say 
she has found that ' last ditch ' which the North has so 
long derided, and have been endeavoring to force her in. 
forgetting they are our brothers, and it is impolitic to goad 
an enemy to madness. Should I reach her side in safety, 
and find it true, I will proudly beg permission to triumph 
or die in that same l ditch ' by her side." [Exit.] 

ACT IV.— SCENE V.* 

At the theatre, Lincoln, Mrs. Lincoln, Maj. Rathbun, 
and Miss Harris — enter Booth, unperceived. 

Booth. {Aside) Little dreams the tyrant of the danger 
that is near. Twice before have my plans for capture 
and assassination blown with the winds of misfortune. 
But they'll not be blasted now! No power on earth can 
stop me in the crime for which I may expiate my life 
(shoots Lincoln from behind, jumps on to the stage; bran- 
dishes a dagger in right hand, and utters the motto of Vir- 

* Boxes may easily be formed in the rear of the stage, to represent 
those occupied by Lincoln and party at Washington. They should be 
draped with Union flags. 



or, The National Tragedy. 41 

ginia), " Sic Semper Tyrannis." The South shall be free. 
[Exit]. (Miss Harris calls for water. Mrs. Lincoln 
sobs piteously ; great commotion prevails, and Lincoln 
is carried from the stage). 

ACT IV.— SCENE VI. 

At Seward's residence — Payne rings and the door is 
opened by a colored servant. 

Payne. I come from Dr. Verdi, Mr. Seward's physician, 
and would like to see the Secretary on important 
business. 

Serv. You must call in de morning, sur; Master 
Seward cannot be seen to-night. 

Payne. I must see him. I have a prescription which 
is very important, and will not admit of delay. 

Serv. Well, sur, my orders am to let no one see the 
Secretary. 

Payne. I tell you I am intrusted with particular 
directions concerning the medicine; I must see Mr. Seward 
directly; his life may be endangered by my absence. 

Serv. Well, sur, I can't allow you to enter, my orders 
fern 

Payne. To keep all you can from entering (Jc7iochs 
down servant and passes) 

ACT IV.— SCENE VII. 

Sec. Seward's sick chamber — Miss Seward, Robinson, 
and a female attendant. 

Miss Sew. Father is sleeping very quietly now ; it is 
the first he has done so for a long time. 

Rob. Yes, his symptoms don't appear to be as danger- 
ous as they were — what's that? (A noisy tread is heard 
without.) 

Miss Sew. My! what can that be? It sounds as 
though a madman had found ingress into the house. 

Rob. And possibly you are not far astray; it really 
seems as though such were the case. I will go to the door 
and see who it is, and what's the matter (opens the door). 

Fred Sew. {without) Who is coming there? 

Payne, (without) A messenger from Dr. Verdi, with 
important prescriptions, regarding your father's medicine. 

Rob. ( Closing the door) Whoever it is, your brother 
has met and is conversing with him in the hall. 



42 J. Wilkes Booth; 

Miss Sew. It must be some stranger, who is unaware 
of the proximity of the sick room. 

Rob. Very serious consequence might follow a dis- 
turbance of Mr. Seward's condition now, and I trust, for 
his benefit, that whoever the intruder may be, he will 
leave in a quieter manner than he came. 

Fred Sew. ( Opens the door and looks in) " Father 
is asleep now, I guess we will not disturb hinT' (with- 
draws, closing the door). 

Miss Sew. I guess it was somebody came to see papa, 

and Why something is wrong what a noise 

my brother! 

Rob. I dare say is perfectly safe, Miss Seward (opens 
the door ; a man bleeding from wounds is seen falling ; 
Payne rushes against and strives to force the door, which 
is held by Robinson, who is overcome and knocked down. 
Payne enters and rushes toward the bed where Seward lies 
asleep.) 

Miss Sew. (Rushes to the window and raises it) 
Murder! murder!! murder!!! 

Payne. Ah, object of my nocturnal visit! Your days 
are numbered! your hours all short! death sends her 
messenger to lead you from this land of earthly care! 
Strikes with dagger, misses his aim, and looses his equili- 
brum ) 

Rob. {Rises and rushes towards the bed, grasps the 
assassin and pulls him from the ed) You scoundrel! How 
dare you ! (they struggle violently, both fall and regain their 
feet simultaneously ; Payne strikes with his knife, places a 
revolver against Robinson's face, and forces him to the 
floor). 

Enter Maj. Seward. . 

Maj. Sew. Heavens alive! who is this? Are we to be 
murdered by a lunatic in our own homes ! 

Rob. Take his knife away! 

Maj. Sew. (Or asps the knife and struggles) 
Villain and coward that you are! You would murder the 
unconscious sleeper in his dying bed! (they struggle violent- 
ly ; Payne is forced toward the door, and, with one great 
effort, he releases himself and escapes. They all follow him. 
Re-entering, find Seward on the floor in a pool of blood.) 

Rob. (Taking Seward's pulse) Great heavens! The 
man is dead ! murdered before our very eyes, and we unable 
to prevent it. 

Miss Sew. Is my father dead ? 



or, The National Tragedy. 43 

Rob. I fear lie is {places his ear to Seward's heart). 
Sec. Sew. " I am not dead. Send for the police and 
a surgeon, and close the house." [Curtain], 

ACT V.— SCENE I. 
Mrs. Surratt's house— Mrs. Surratt, officers, etc. 

Officer. Madam, information has been received at the 
War Department to the effect that this house has, for some 
time, been visited by, and made the resort of suspicious 
characters. We are charged to arrest all persons found 
here, and take possession of the house, so you will please 
consider yourselves under arrest, and make whatever 
preparations are necessary to accompany us. 

Mrs. Sur. I arrested — suspicious persons here — take 
possession of the house ? 

Officer. You understand me perfectly, madam, so 
there is no necessity for further explanation or delay. The 
sooner you are ready to go, the better it will be for all 
parties concerned. 

Mrs. Sur. But, gentlemen, there is some mistake — 
some great error — a malignant and unfounded charge 
which I cannot and will not obey. 

Officer. If there is any mistake, madam, you will not 
be long detained; if an error can be established, your 
character will suffer no loss; but for the present, you can 
and must obey my orders. If you resist, you will oblige 
me to perform an act for which I have the greatest reluct- 
ance. Captain, you will please take the ladies in charge, 
and I will proceed to search the house for any evidence that 
may be accessible. {The ladies get ready; a light tap is heard 
at the door; it is opened by one officer while the others stand 
with drawn sword and revolvers), 

Payne. (Outside, dressed as a laborer; feet, pants, and 
face very muddy; a pick- axe over his shoulder, and a skull- 
cap, made by cutting off the arm of a stockinet shirt, 
covers his head). " I believe I am mistaken! " 

Officer. " Who did you desire to see? " 

Payne. " Mrs. Surratt." 

Officer. "Mrs. Surratt lives here; she is at home; 
walk in." (Payne enters and takes a seat). What are 
you doing here at this hour of the night ? 

Payne. I was sent for by Mrs. Surratt to dig a gutter, 
and called to know what time she wished me to come to 
work in the morning. 



4A J. Wilkes Booth; 

Officer. What is your occupation ? 

Payne. I am a laboring man and work for my daily 
bread. I have been employed for some time past on the 
Baltimore & Ohio Railroad as a laborer, but have recently 
lost my position, and work now at whatever I can get. 

Officer. How long since you worked on the Balti- 
more & Ohio Railroad? 

Payne. I was at work there last Friday. 

Officer. Where did you sleep last Friday night ? 

Payne. With the other hands. 

Officer. Where did you sleep last Saturday night? 

Payne. Saturday night I slept — I was at the — I had 
no money — 

Officer. Have you any money now ? 

Payne. No, sir; I have not got a cent. 

Officer. Where have you been since Saturday 
morning ? 

Payne. Saturday I was out in the country — I was 

helping dig a cellar for Mr. , I can't think of his 

name, it is a peculiar one. He lives at , on ; I'm 

not very well acquainted in the city, and can't remember 
the name of the street. 

Officer. What is your name; and where are you 
from ? 

Payne. My name is Lewis Payne, and I am from 
Fauquier county, Virginia. I have worked for my living 
since I was sixteen years old, and my father is a Baptist 
minister. 

Officer. Are you a rebel ? 

Payne. No, sir; I took the oath of allegiance, and am 
as loyal a citizen as there is in the Union to-night {hands 
him a certificate of allegiance). There it is, and you can 
see for yourself that no drop of rebel blood flows in my 
veins. 

Officer. When did you take this oath ? 

Payne. I — I took it on the — 1 don't remember 
the date. You see, I can't read or write, and am obliged 
to treasure every little thing in my memory, which I find 
to be a rather difficult task. I am a laboring man, and 
earn my living by my daily toil. 

Officer. Mr. Payne, if such is your name, your 
answers are not at all satisfactory. The accounts which 
you give of yourself for Saturday are contradictory; you 
are unable to state where you slept Saturday night, and 
know nothing whatever with regard to the time on which 
this oath of allegiance was taken. You do not look like 



or, The National Tragedy. 45 

a laboring man, and your hands bear no marks of toil. 
Your clothes are those of a gentleman, soiled and be- 
smeared for the purpose of disguise. The pick-axe is but 
another object of delusion, and the cap, a crowning cover of 
a neat disguise. Will you (to another officer) please step 
into the next room and have Mrs. Surratt come here a 
moment. {Officer goes and returns with Mrs. Surratt). 
u Mrs. Surratt, do you know this man? " 

Mrs. Sur. {Raising her right hand) " Before God, I do 
not know this man, and have never seen him." 

Officer. Have you a gutter to dig, and did you send 
for somebody to dig it ? 

Mrs. Sur. Have I a gutter to dig? No, sir ! 

Officer. That is all I desire, you may retire. [Exit 
Mrs. Surratt]. 

Payne. I must have mistaken the name and place. 

Officer. But more likely did not anticipate the re- 
ception which you received. Captain, wash some of the 
mud off this man and we'll see how he looks in his natural 
garb. (Washes him). That will do; I have evidence 
enough. You may now consider yourself under arrest 
and submit to being searched. 

Payne. On what charge do you arrest me? 

Officer. I arrest you on the charge of being, in some 
way or other, connected with the assassination of President 
Lincoln, and the assault upon Secretary Seward (his 
pockets are searched, and found to contain a hair and a 
tooth brush, a pot of pomatum, twenty-five dollars in green- 
backs, and a new pocket compass) . I thought you didn't 
have any money? 

Payne. I said — 

Officer. Never mind; come along with us [Exeunt 
omnes]. 

ACT V.— SCENE II. 
Dr. Mudd's house. 

Harrold. ( Outside rapping) Doctor Mudd, wake up 
in there! Can't you hear? 

Mudd. Who's there? 

Harrold. Booth and Harrold. Booth's leg is broken. 
Hurry up and open the door. 

Mudd. ( Opens door and Harrold enters) Where 
is Booth? 

Harrold. At the gate. He can't walk; come and 
help me bring him in. You must set his leg as soon as 



46 J. Wilkes Booth 



possible; we have a long journey before us and must not 
tarry on the way (they go out and re-enter, carrying Booth). 

Booth. Doctor, we have struck " oil " at last. 

Mudd. I don't exactly understand you? 

Booth. I have discharged the burden which so long 
oppressed my mind. Lincoln is dead! I shot him to-night 
in Ford's theatre, and if the others have done their duty, 
Seward and Johnson are also men of the past. 

Mudd. How did you break your leg. 

Booth. I got caught in the damned flags that adorned 
the President's boxes, afterwards fell from my horse in a 
wild attempt to escape, and don't know in which of them 
it was that I received the injury. 

Mudd. I will do all I can for you (sets the leg). 
There, it will get along very well now, if you don't 
strain it. 

Booth. You had better hide that old boot leg some- 
where, for officers will be here pretty soon, I'm thinking. 

Mudd. (Produces liquor) Take some of this, and it 
will do you good (Booth and Harrold drink). Here 
are a couple of bottles more which you will not find amiss 
on your route. 

Hakrold. I will put them some place where they 
will not be of much trouble to us. We can't bother with 
much luggage. We must be off; we've got to reach 
Surrattsville before twelve; those " shooting-irons " and 
other things are there, which will be of the greatest 
benefit to us on the road. Come, Booth, let us be off; 
every moment we delay brings the pursuers closer to our 
heels. 

Booth. I'm ready (they carry him out). 



ACT V.— SCENE III. 
Lloyd's residence. 

Lloyd. I feel very uneasy about something or other 
to-night. I am of the opinion that everything is not all 
right. Mrs. Surratt seemed greatly excited when she was 
here this afternoon, and spoke several times about having 
them " shooting irons " ready so that I could produce them 
at a moment's notice. She said they would be called for 
to-night (a knock is heard at the door). There! I 
wouldn't be surprised if those are the parties now (opens 



door). 



or, The National Tragedy. 47 

Enter Harrold. 

Har. " Get me those things." 

Lloyd. (Gives him two carbines, a monkey wrench, 
ammunition, a rope, and a field glass) Those are all (helps 
carry them out.) 

Booth. ( Without) I can't take my carbine, we had 
better leave it here. "I will tell you some news; I am 
pretty sure we have assassinated the President and Secre- 
tary Seward." 

Lloyd. ( As he enters) Yes, and drawn me by my 
acts of gratitude into your infernal toils of crime. I have 
become an innocent and unconscious accomplice by 
concealing your weapons in my house. I have one left, 
and the first officer that passes here to-morrow shall 
possess it [Exit]. 

ACT V.— SCENE IV. 
Booth and Harrold at Garrett's farm. 

Booth. Those people would never keep us had we 
not been brought here by Confederate officers. 

Har. No, I don't think they would, and as it is, they 
are not over-anxious that we remain. 

Booth. Like or dislike, we'll remain until we get 
ready to go; and that will be when the road is clear before 
us. If they only knew who we are — knew that we're the 
ones for whom such an exorbitant reward is offered. But 
they'll not find out; no, that wounded rebel scheme was too 
much for them (dinner bell rings). 

Har. There goes the dinner bell. Let us go in and 
do justice to the table; I feel as though I could eat more 
than a dozen men to-day. [Exit Booth and Harrold]. 

ACT V.— SCENE V. 

Dining room. 

Garrett. What a horrible thing it was to murder the 
President ! I can't conceive of a man being daring enough 
to enter the President's box and shoot him before his wife 
and friends, and then jump on to the stage where the 
chances of escape were so few. No, I can't; he must have 
been a hardened villain, and cared as little for his own life 
as he did for that of the President's. 

Booth. Yes ! It is a hard conception to form. He 
must have been a " hardened villain" indeed! and if 



4S J. Wilkes Booth; 

captured should receive no mercy at the hands of the law. 
He deserves the execration of all loyal citizens, and 
hanging would be too good for one so cruel and heartless ! 

Garrett. They say he was an actor — 

Booth. Actor or preacher, he should suffer for the 
henious crime that has made the world sad, and that 
has sent a thrill of pain through the hearts of all his 
countrymen. No cause can justify so hellish an act, or 
insanity play the part of crime. 

Garrett. I agree in sentiment with you, sir, and 
wish that Providence would place him within my reach, 
as there is a reward of $200,000 offered for his capture. 

Booth. "Yes, it would be a good haul, but the 
amount will doubtless soon be increased to 1500,000." 

Garrett. Gentlemen, I don't like to admit it, but 
your presence has caused me much inconvenience lately. 
I was in hopes that you would soon leave, and that you 
would save me the necessity of performing a task which 
is more becoming to a landlord than a host. 

Harrold. Your meaning, sir, is not difficult to compre- 
hend; but you are aware that it was but yesterday you 
refused us the loan of your horse to take us to town. 

Garrett. 1 had my reasons for doing so. I do not 
desire that you should remain here longer; my wife 
protests to your being in the house another night, and if 
you do remain, you must sleep in the barn. 

Booth. Then we will sleep in the barn, for we cannot 
walk to the city. [Exeunt omnes]. 

ACT V.— SCENE VI. 

Garrett's barn — Booth and Harrold -fixing a place 
to lie down. 

Har. This is not the worst bed in the world, though 
we might have passed the night in a more comfortable 
one, had it not been for that old woman. 

Booth. Yes, confound her; she raised a disturbance 
in the camp, just as we were about to make ourselves at 
home. 

Officer. ( Outside, knocking on door with re- 
volver) " Booth, we want you/' 

Booth. [Grasping Ms arms) "Here I am, who are 
you, Confederate or Yankee? 1 ' 

Officer. We are a detachment of Federal cavalry, 
and command you to surrender. The barn is surrounded, 



or, The National Tragedy. 49 

and it is impossible for you to escape. We have been on 
your trail since yon crossed the Potomac, and are now 
rewarded by finding you. 

Booth. And at the same time disappointed by losing 
me. I will not surrender, and I defy you to come and take 



me 



Officer. There is no use of further resistance; your 
efforts are useless and will end in your capture. 

Booth. Then why don't you come and capture me? 

Officer. If you do not surrender, we will proceed to 
do so. 

Booth. You may begin your operations at any 
moment; I will not surrender, and the first man, who 
enters here will never leave alive ! Remember that ! I can 
shoot five men, kill myself, and thereby defeat your plans 
of capture! 

Har. Let us surrender, Booth; they have a whole 
army around the barn, and if we attempt to escape, it will 
be sure death. 

Booth. Surrender? what childish talk! Give our- 
selves up into the hands of those villains, who are worse 
than ourselves? 'tis madness! None but a fool or coward, 
overcome by momentary weakness, would give vent to 
such words of folly. 

Har. But the aspect is not so deplorable that we 
should relinquish all hope of escape. They but surmise 
that we are the perpetrators, and have no evidence to 
convict us of the crime. If we surrender, our chances of 
escape are many ; if we remain here, the consequences of 
the imprudent act will be death. 

Booth. Better to die as we have lived, than to change 
our career upon the threshold of the grave. See! they 
have already set fire to the barn! We must quench it, 
or perish in the flames! {they try to put out the flames, 
but finding their efforts useless, return ; Booth stands with 
his back against the hay-mound, a revolver in each hand, 
and a carbine between his legs). 

Har. I tell you we had better surrender! If you 
don't come, I go alone; I do not intend to be burnt alive 
when 1 can avoid it; or to die now for a crime of which 
future events may prove me innocent. I will surrender 
(drops Ms weapons and goes towards the door). 

Booth. Surrender, and let all the curses consistent 
with your act be with you! Give yourself up into the 
hands of those Northern bloodhounds, that they may tear 
you to pieces before the public eyes of scorn! — that they 



50 J. Wilkes Booth; 

may hold you aloft, and from the gibbet of infamy, swing 
your worthless form! Oh, fool and coward that you are! 
Can you hope for justice from a set of tyrants? Can you 
crave for mercy at the feet ot villains? Can you prostrate 
all the dignity of your manhood, at the trying moment of 
your life ? 

Harrold. I can do anything to save a life which I 
value so much. \_Exit\. 

Booth. Even though you could produce testimony to 
. clear you of the slightest guilt, they will ignore it all, 
hang you, and brand you with a crime of which you are 
innocent! All the evidence in the world cannot save you 
from the gallows; they will make of you a public example, 
that the unsuspecting eyes of innocence may gaze upon 
your lifeless form. (Booth hears crackling \ moves as 
though about to escape, and is shot through a crack from 
without). 'Tt's all up now;" I'm shot by one who dare not 
show his face, and the only thing that I regret is that I 
die unknown to those who charge me with so foul a crime 
as murder. In the eyes of man, I'm guilty of the crime, 
but before the God who rules above and knows all things, 
Fm as innocent as the child that slumbers on its mother's 
breast, for I consider no crime a murder that is per- 
petrated to save the lives of thousands. 

I am guilty of no crime for which I dare not 
meet my God. The blow I struck was in behalf of the 
country that I loved, and for the preservation of the rights 
that are born into this world with man. Were I to live 
my life over again, and circumstances shape themselves as 
they appear before me to-day — with the rights of man 
destroyed and the privileges of his birthright polluted — 
I would follow that same course which I have already 
pursued; and I would strike down the tyrant who rises 
to usurp the liberties of the grandest and noblest people 
that ever gave beauty to this barren soil. The incensed 
people of to-day may clothe me in their robes of maledic- 
tion; but the nobles of prosterity will hold me sacred as 
the cause for which I die. A great act, like a great work 
of literature, will grow in beauty and grandeur, as the 
passing years weather its asperity: and the crime of which 
I am the condemned object to-day, will, in one hundred 
years, be the pedestal on which I may stand and hope for 
glory. Life is short; it is but a ripple upon the wave of 
time; it is seen for an instant, like the wrecked and strug- 
gling vessel of misfortune, amid the angry surges of the 
merciless billows of contention, then lost to the anxious 



or, The National Tragedy. 



51 



eye forever. Noble deeds will live upon the page of mem- 
ory until the end of time; and contemporaries are not the 
jurors who should sit in judgment upon acts that will 
affect all posterity. 

Death is the most horrid spectre that can stare into the 
face of guilt, but to me 'tis nothing, for I love to die and 
leave this world where man's too good to dwell. ( Falls 
dead, and the soldiers rush in and surround him). 

CURTAIN. 




0/ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




